A Munster and Ham Sandwich
by Naktarra
Summary: Keeping with the theme of the 1964 show, let's bring controversy and what would be unacceptable in modern day television. A shifty old man making pills in his laboratory for his grand-son, Eddie. All in harmless fun, he is only trying to bring Herman's food costs down as Eddie has finally hit his growth spurt.


A Munster and Ham Sandwich May 2014

The thumping of over-large platformed shoes creaked down the presumably dark and abandoned house to normal folks carrying on in the world. An empty house it was not though, as anyone could be lurking in an old Victorian building smoking from the peaceful thunderstorm settling into silence that could wake the dead.

It was an escape mission that would end in never returning home for a hundred and fifty year old Herman Munster. He couldn't stay another moment in his average American home with one of_ those _in his house. One of _those_ which kept banging on the doors in the morning and one of _those_ which lay awake all night and day.

He tapped into the kitchen, or what what as left of the exploded mess. Or rather not so exploded to the jaw-twisting man-rather barren. _It_ had an appetite which kept him up long at night with a grumbling stomach that vibrated his bed. It also kept him going as a man who had to work long and hard nights at the parlour just to feed his normally cozy little family.

Although maybe he couldn't blame Eddie. After all, spending his own childhood in three separate jars had lead him to never have time to fight a self made growth-spurt. He had only to be sewn with thread and needle into the man he was today. That was the trouble with the children of the world today: They didn't respect being tied up and made by someone else. The children now had to do it their own way by chewing on the front porch and picking the cheese out of the bear-traps.

Herman cursed the all-American ways for the first time in his life.

"What'cha got there Herman?" A crinkled eyed voice asked from behind him with a wave of a black leather glove.

There was a sudden snap of the sewing-machine sized lunchbox and Herman Munster turned around to see his broken-down old father and law standing in his penguin coordinated suit and count emblem. He raced in his mine for a well-put-together excuse, but he was brought up instead with the realization that he was met with the master of lies who could smell it even if it wasn't coated in fresh blood from the bank.

Instead, Herman picked the least suspicious statement that he could muster, "I'm going for a walk."

The count looked around at the table in front of himself. It was laden with yard-long meat rolls and bread rolls along with butchering knives. An uneven ham sandwich lay on the table next to a litre of fresh bat's milk held in a lovingly painted container by the family's own blonde, Marilyn Munster.

"With all those _sandwiches_?" Grandpa asked with a slurred lilt.

"I'm a very hungry man, Grandpa. I have to sneak food. Eddie might very well eat me—eat me out of house and home!"

Herman waved his finger with the most important expression as he looked around with a lowered lip, as if fearing that his own child was in the shadows ready to take his sandwiches.

"Nonsense. Herman, I've been working in the lab all through the day and I've come up with a solution to your problem!" The count exclaimed with his arms held wide.

Herman held the sandwich lunchbox close to his chest, his eyes drifting to the doorway where any of the rest of his little pod could appear. Then he nodded in a strategic way and leaned his six foot nine self down to Grandpa with a wide expression in thought.

"I have made a snow pill. Eddie can sleep all through the winter, you can save on your electric bill, Lily wont have to go shopping and everyone will be happy!"

The old man cackled and clapped his hands together with his eyes crinkling higher into his pale pallor. The leader of the family was taking thought into it, putting his lunch-kit down and tapping his fingers together as he counted absolutely nothing with the greatest intelligence he had.

"But—But what about Eddie and all his friends? They wont be able to see him over the summer break. And what about quality father and son time? You know the highlight of Eddie's life is to spend time with yours truly."

"I suppose your have a point," The Count dropped his arms to his side in defeat for a moment, then sparked up again, "I could change the pill, he could sleep for a month."

"I don't know, Grandpa. You know, I'm not very comfortable with taking valuable time from my boy. Most parents these days make them stay awake the entire year and learn a thing or two. Plus, I think I would get rather lonely."

"Lonely?" Grandpa asked to his son-in-law thoughtfully leaning on the crumbling stoney kitchen counter.

"I think that Eddie—no matter what growth-spurt he goes through—should be able to stay here with the loving and tender care of his family. After all, I only had Doctor Frankenstein to talk to and he was often quite a dull fellow to be around."

"You know, you do have a point, Herman." Grandpa sighed, dropping his arms in a final defeat. "I suppose I was just thinking of the old country. You know, I use to take naps from July to October just because I couldn't wait for my favourite holiday."

Herman nodded and opened the tin, withdrawing one of the dozen sandwiches stacked inside as his storage of food. He handed one to Grandpa and the two ate quietly for the first time in what felt like forever with a teenage werewolf in the house. Eddie Munster was a menace to Herman's little cow flank snacks and dodo bird smoothies.

Truly that's what made his son dearer to him than all the money in the world. He and his family had to share the burden of feeding Eddie Munster together.


End file.
